


Holiday Cheer

by asilentmurder



Series: For The Holidays [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Ficlet, For the Holidays series, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentmurder/pseuds/asilentmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dad, can we invite Derek to Christmas dinner?”</p><p>The swig of beer the Sheriff had taken spurts out of his mouth and sprays forward. “What?!” He swings his head around to stare at his son. “Derek? HALE?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Just something for the holidays. This hasn't been beta'd, so forgive any errors. Merry Christmas!

“Hey Scott,” Stiles asks as they walk out of the school the last day before winter break, “d’ya think Derek has any plans for the Holidays?”

Scott turns to give Stiles a confused look. “What?”

“Y’know, because he doesn’t really have family? Well, he’s got Peter,” a shiver runs through Stiles and he stops walking to shake it off. “God, that’s a horrifying thought. The only family you’ve got left is the creepy reincarnated uncle who killed your sister for power.”

“Stiles, focus.” Scott snaps his fingers in front of Stiles’ face and Stiles shoves at his hand.

“Rude.”

“You were rambling.”

Stiles scoffs, pulling out the keys to the Jeep. “I always ramble. That’s my thing.  _Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man_.” Scott just looks at Stiles like he’s crazy when Stiles flails. “Oh God, I can’t. You don’t- never mind, get in the car.”

When Stiles gets home, the Sheriff is seated on the couch with a beer watching Mythbusters. Stiles throws his bag on the floor by the door and plops down next to his dad. The Sheriff nudges his shoulder into Stiles.

“How was your last day of school for the year?”

Stiles falls back against the couch. “Dad, can we invite Derek to Christmas dinner?”

The swig of beer the Sheriff had taken spurts out of his mouth and sprays forward. “What?!” He swings his head around to stare at his son. “Derek? HALE?”

Stiles shrugs innocently. “I mean, he doesn’t really have much of a family now, since Laura died earlier this year, and I was just thinking maybe he could use some company?” He scrunches his face up in a mixture of hope and fuck-this-was-a-stupid-idea. The Sheriff blinks and brings a hand up to his face. When he sighs, Stiles perks up.

“Son, I really hate it when your crazy ideas make sense.” He drops his hand down to Stiles’ knee. “You’re a good friend. Call him up, tell him to be here by 4pm on Christmas Eve. If he wants to eat dinner, he’ll have to help you make it.”

Stiles gapes at his dad. “Seriously? You expect Derek to- okay, shutting up and calling!” He scrambles off the couch and darts up the stairs. “Thanks, dad, you’re the best!” He calls down from the stairway.

The Sheriff just chuckles and drinks the rest of his beer in one gulp.

~~~

There are two whole chickens roasting in the oven already by the time Derek shows up on Christmas Eve. He’s thirty minutes early, standing on the Stilinski’s porch with a casserole dish in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. He lifts the dish when Stiles opens the door.

“This was my mom’s favorite thing to make for Christmas. Peter and Erica made it.”

Stiles says nothing, just accepts the lasagna held out to him and ignores the brusque tone to Derek’s voice. He walks toward the kitchen, leaving the door open for Derek to follow. He senses Derek’s presence a couple minutes later while he’s checking the temperature of the birds in the oven. “I hope you like pie, because I swindled Miss Hoth next door into bringing over her rhubarb and her apple spice pies. They are so freaking good, man, it’ll change your life.” Stiles wipes off the thermometer after closing the oven door, then turns to Derek.

Derek stands motionless for a minute, and Stiles can practically see the thoughts running through the Alpha’s mind. “I, um.” Derek lifts the grocery bag in his hand, clearing his throat. “I brought over some ice cream for the pies, and I think Isaac threw in a can of whipped cream…” He trails off, not quite meeting Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles grins, rolling his eyes as he walks over to Derek. “Perfect. Now help me clean the potatoes.” He pushes Derek toward the sink, mentally pumping his fist in victory when Derek shrugs out of his leather jacket wordlessly and rolls up his sleeves to scrub the potatoes. Derek doesn’t complain when Stiles asks him to cut the onions and carrots either, so Stiles figures Derek must be in a decent mood for the holiday. And really, that’s all Stiles wanted.

Little did he know that he would get so much more than that.


End file.
